


Hate Isn't the Opposite of Love

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Poetry, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 22:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21043529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: Confessions are made after Cas forgets the personal space rule.This is based on a poem my friend, noxlee, wrote.Go read it on their tumblr





	Hate Isn't the Opposite of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noxlee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlee/gifts).

“Personal space, Cas,” Dean says without looking up. The sound of wings beating against the air is louder than everything else. It lights Dean’s nerve endings on fire, sets his heart racing, and makes him want to reach for the angel responsible. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says behind him. Dean dries his face he’s just finished washing and looks up into the mirror at the source of everything. 

“You know I hate that.” Dean clenches his jaw, swallowing hard as he turns around and notices just how close they’re standing. “I hate the way you stand so close.”

“Sorry,” Cas mutters, taking a small step back. Dean wants to stop him and pull him back to being too close. He desperately wants to, but he doesn’t. He never does and at this rate, he never will. 

“I hate how small this room is.” It’s stuffy and suffocating. There’s too much room, but also too little. Dean runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath as he steps around Cas. Their shoulders brush and electricity shocks him. “I hate everything.” 

“Are you feeling alright, Dean?” 

“No! I hate the way you wear your hair!” It used to stick out in every direction. He used to wear it like a wild thing. Now he combs it. He’s tamed it. Dean wants to reach into the thick, dark hair and pull it gently. He wants to feel the soft hair between his fingers as he restores the crazed style that he’d worn when they met. 

“I hate the way you stole my damn car.” Dean goes to his bed and remakes it even though it was already up to military standards. “I hate that you tried to give the mixtape back.” Dean turns around to face Cas. He wonders why his gaze is magnetic. He is locked in place every time he finds Cas’ eyes across a room or just a few inches apart. 

“I hate it when you stare.” 

Cas immediately looks down.

Dean walks back to him and lifts his chin gently, silently hating the searing touch. He wants more and can never have it. 

“I didn’t steal your car. Kelly did. I was going to wait for you. I never wanted to betray you, Dean.” His voice is soft and rough at the same time. It twists Dean’s stomach into knots. “I did though. I’m sorry.”

“I hate your big, dumb trenchcoat,” Dean says, his voice cracking under Cas’ apology. He straightens Cas’ lapel when it doesn’t need it. 

“Dean.” Cas catches his hand and holds it tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

“I hate the way you read my mind.” Dean squeezes Cas’ hand. “I hate you so much, Cas. I hate you so much for the way I feel and how you’re so kind.” His hand is on fire, but he can’t let go. 

Dean takes in a shaky breath. He doesn’t know why he’s still talking. He can’t make it stop. “I hate the way I made you fall,” he says quietly. Cas shakes his head, pushing Dean’s self-blame away. 

“Dean, please,” Cas begs. “Stop it.”

“I- I hate it when you die,” Dean chokes. He holds his hand back from cupping Cas’ face. “Every time it happens, it’s like the world is ending. I was ready for it to end last time, Cas. I’ve never felt like that before. I’ve lost so much, but losing you is too much.” 

Cas opens his mouth in silent shock as Dean feels his first tear fall. He doesn’t bother wiping it away, his hands occupied with holding onto Cas. 

“I hate you so much,” Dean shakes his head, “for giving up an army, your family, Heaven, just for one fucked up guy.” 

“I’ll always choose you, Dean. You’re my family. Not them. This is my home. Not Heaven. You’ve proven that to me. Please, Dean, tell me what’s really wrong,” Cas pleads, releasing Dean’s hands to pull him into a tight hug. Dean’s arms circle around him, holding onto him like the lifeline he has been and always will be. 

“I hate it when you’re not around and when you don’t call,” Dean says into Cas’ shoulder. His hands tighten, balling the trenchcoat into his fists. “But what’s really wrong, Cas,” Dean chokes, “is that I  _ hate _ the way that I don’t hate you. Not even close. Not even a little bit.” Dean feels himself sinking. Quite literally he’s sinking to the floor and Cas is coming with. They crumple to the floor, Cas holding onto Dean, comfort in his arms. 

“Not even at all,” Dean admits, crying. 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas says, pressing his cheek to the top of Dean’s head. “I love that when I stand too close, your jaw tightens and your cheeks turn pink.”

Dean freezes, his head still against Cas’ chest, listening to the pounding of his heart. 

“I love the way you wear your hair. The way you style it up and pretend you don’t use products even though there’s an entire drawer just for you. The way it sticks up in the morning and you look like a sleepy hedgehog while you drink your coffee. The way it looks right now after you’ve messed it up in a fit, running your hands through it and pulling at it.” 

Dean wipes away his tears but remains where he is, curled against Cas. 

“I love that mixtape you gave me. I play it every night while you and Sam sleep. I sit in the Impala in the garage and listen to the entire thing for as long as I can get away with. 

“I love how much you tease me about my car. Your mean nicknames for it. You even tried covering up how much you hate it just because I was sick. I won’t pretend to understand your taste in cars, but it feels good to be joked with.

“Look at me,” Cas says softly. Dean does, tilting his head while keeping it firmly against Cas’ chest. Their eyes lock and Dean’s heart leaps. “I love when you stare because it feels like my heart is exploding and my mind is expanding. It feels like how I imagine stars feel when they burst.” 

Dean’s breath catches. He can’t move. He can’t speak. 

“I love to hate your stupid flannels. No one can wear one of those and look good. No one but you.” Cas looks away, breaking the contact before pulling Dean closer, his hand running down Dean’s arm. 

“I love the way you read my mind, when you finish my thoughts, and start my sentences. You know me better than I know myself sometimes. You know what I’m capable of, even when everyone else tells me I can’t. 

“I love you so much, Dean Winchester, for the way I feel. Angels aren’t allowed to feel. I never thought I would experience any emotion. Not happiness, certainly not elation. I didn’t think I would ever feel love, but I do and it’s all thanks to you.”

Cas stops for a moment. He takes a deep breath and Dean can hear his heart beat a tiny bit faster. His next breath is broken. 

“I hate it when you die.” His arms tighten around Dean. “I watched you get dragged to Hell. I fixed it when I was allowed. It got harder after that. I didn’t know that meeting you would make everything so much better, and your deaths so much worse to bear. When Metatron killed you, when you became a demon… It hurt so badly, I could hardly breathe. I didn’t want to keep going. I thought that I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean whispers. Cas hugs him tighter for a moment. Dean’s entire world is limited to Cas and his enveloping presence. 

“I love choosing you over the angels. It’s an easy decision to make when they mark it clearly to choose between Dean Winchester and all of Heaven. Heaven who watched as you were tortured in Hell until it was too late. Heaven who exiles me like a child on time out. Heaven who tortured and brainwashed me. All of that against the man who calls me a friend, an ally, family. A man with eyes that look like grass in the Springtime and has a laugh that brightens the world. A man who puts everyone else before himself because he’s the man who saves people and hunts things. I think, no matter how ‘fucked up’ a guy he is, he’s a great one.”

Cas finds one of Dean’s hands and slowly laces his fingers with Dean’s. 

“I love when I show up after being gone for a while and you already know that it’s me, your eyes finding mine in the rearview mirror. I love when I show up and you jump. I love when I’ve been gone for a while and when I come back, I can tell that I’ve been missed. 

“I love when you pray to me instead of calling my cellphone. I remember a time before you prayed. I remember the first night you prayed and it was the loudest, clearest voice I had ever heard. It still is. When you pray, it might as well be my own thoughts. I also love when you call my phone because you set a new ringtone for yourself every time you get a chance. No one else has been pretending to be an FBI agent when their phone starts playing the Batman theme song.

“But, Dean,” Cas pulls away enough to look at Dean. His eyes shine and his voice is soft as he whispers, “I love the way that I’m entirely in love with you. Just a little bit, or maybe a lot. Head over heels, completely in love.” 

Dean finally reaches forward to cup his jaw and lean in, pressing his lips to Cas’. Cas kisses back immediately, a gentle kiss making promises and starting something new. 


End file.
